Yesterday's Gone
by Rebecca Ripple
Summary: Based on Episode 2.19, "Rumours" - When times prove harder than ever before, Sam realizes his damaged reputation at McKinley is the least of his worries. AU from Prom Queen onward. Ships: Quam and Finchel
1. Yesterday's Gone

**Summary:** As if the school newspaper's libelous reports about him aren't bad enough, Sam gets a bitter taste of what a recession can do when he sees his family's situation continue to worsen. Quinn, who has already helped him on multiple occasions, risks her reputation and her relationship with Finn to continue helping the Evans family, despite the damage the Muckraker has already done.

Meanwhile, Sam still loves Quinn deeply, and decides that her aid in the worst of times is more than enough reason to forgive her for cheating. Out of respect for her, he keeps his feelings a solemn secret, as much as he longs to tell her, and to know if she feels the same way about him.

**A/N:** I'm actually a little nervous about this fic… This is the first time I've posted a story like this one online, so if you don't like something I've written, let me know _nicely_. Anyway, I'm working hard to make it the best it can be, and I really hope you like it! Enjoy. (Beta read by BananaBat18)

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Yesterday's Gone<strong>

Sam awoke with the daylight as the first bright rays sifted through the blinds and into the motel room. He didn't get out of bed right away; he still felt as though he were half-asleep. He wanted to return to the dream he'd woken up from, but try as he might, there was no going back.

He sat up slowly and looked around the room at his parents and siblings. They had yet to wake up, and he envied them for it. He wanted so badly to drift back to sleep, to forget once again what had happened to him and his family over the past few months – to forget the humiliation he felt at being accused of convincing two of his friends to cheat on their boyfriends with him when all he'd done was accept their help.

The alternative was to face all of that pain full-force, and to remember that, of all his so-called friends at McKinley, only Quinn and Kurt had stuck with him through all of this. Even worse, no matter how much those two helped him and his family, and no matter what anyone tried to tell him to give him hope, he knew that there would be no return to normalcy and comfort until the recession was over. For all he knew, that could take several more years.

He winced as his body reminded him that he hadn't had dinner the night before. After work, he hadn't really been in the mood for it, so he'd gone straight to bed.

He got up carefully and hoped no one else would be woken up early by the creaking of the cheap mattress. He glanced at his parents' bed once more; neither of them stirred. With a silent sigh, he went to the kitchen area and, as quietly as he could, pulled the refrigerator door open, expecting little and finding less.

The light from the refrigerator spread throughout the entire room, but not waking his family up no longer seemed very important. The shelves and drawers inside were more or less empty. He closed the door and started opening cabinets, but all he could find worth eating was a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter, both of which he took down.

By the light coming in through the windows, he took out a couple of slices of bread and started spreading a thin layer of peanut butter over one of them, sighing in disgust. He was so tired of peanut butter sandwiches. He and his family had had them for breakfast, lunch and dinner for a while now… but at least they were better than an empty stomach.

All of a sudden, he startled at the sound of his dad's whispering voice: "Sam, what are you doing up this early?"

Sam put down the sandwich-in-progress, but didn't turn to face his dad. Staring down at the counter, he whispered back, "Couldn't sleep…"

His dad sighed heavily. Finally, Sam turned around to look at him. "I should have known you'd lose sleep over this, too," his dad muttered, shaking his head solemnly. "Believe me, Sam, this is scary for all of us. But things… things will get better." He put a hand on his eldest son's shoulder. "Meanwhile, we need to make the most of what we have left." He then took the slice of bread that didn't have any peanut butter on it, placed it back in the bag with the rest of the loaf and closed the bag with a tie.

Sam watched in disbelief. "But Dad…" he trailed off.

His dad shook his head, trying to look optimistic. "Just fold it…" he said. He picked up what was left of the sandwich and folded it in half before handing it to his son. Sam just stared wordlessly at the meager half-meal in his hand. "We all need to get used to doing this for a little while," his father told him, his voice heavy with empathy.

Something clicked in Sam's mind as he heard those words. He glanced at the dwindling loaf of bread sitting on the counter in front of him and wondered if this tiny supply of food would have to last the family of five until his paycheck was dispensed to him that Saturday. He would have to ask his boss for an advance paycheck the next time he saw him, which he hoped would be that afternoon after school.

Sam wasn't worried for himself; he had known hunger in the past, though it had been self-inflicted in his effort to impress Quinn during the months when they were dating, but Stevie and Stacy had never gone hungry before. Raising his eyes to the bed in which his younger siblings slept, he knew what he had to do. Without further hesitation, he placed the half-sandwich back on its plate and put it in the refrigerator.

"What are you doing?" his dad asked, bewildered.

Sam avoided his gaze and walked back over to his bed. Thinking sadly of his guitar, he was beginning to understand why he had ever had to sell his most prized possession. He let out a deep, sorrowful sigh. "I didn't get it before," he answered. "I do now." He sat down on the folding bed and lay back, pulling the covers over him and wondering if Quinn or Kurt would get him something for lunch at school. One thing was for sure: he wouldn't be able to ask either of them in anyone else's presence. If he did, any observers would undoubtedly come to yet another wrong conclusion. Besides, he had already sworn to himself that he would never let anyone else know what was happening.

Slowly, the shadows the young sunlight cast against the walls and ceiling sank as the sun itself rose. Sam closed his eyes and tried desperately to sleep, but it was impossible now. His dad had told him – however hesitantly – that their situation would improve. How was he supposed to believe that? Things were only getting worse for the Evans family, and Sam could no longer blind himself to it.

When sunlight finally filled the cloudless sky that morning, Sam still lay awake on his cot bed, unable to dream. Finally, he glanced over at the clock on the wall; it was almost six-thirty. He would have to get up in a few minutes, so that he could be ready in time to walk to school. He sighed and pushed himself up and into a sitting position, feeling like he hadn't slept a wink all night.

He stood up and got ready as quietly as possible, leaving him only enough time to get to school. So, grabbing his book bag and shouldering it, he walked out to the parking lot, closing the door carefully behind him.

Just as silently, he made his way to McKinley. He was nearly there when, seemingly out of nowhere, he felt as if he were spinning wildly. Very worried, he stopped walking and took hold of the wire-mesh fence he'd been walking past to steady himself. He was somewhat familiar with this reaction, but it had never hit him so hard before. He could only guess it was because, even back when he was going out with Quinn and had restricted himself to only a few menu items, he had at least had enough of those things to eat to get him through the day. Back then, his body had waited nearly a week to send him dizzy spells. This time around, however, it had taken less than a day. He took a moment to marvel over why, but when the spinning finally subsided, he set the question aside and resumed the walk to school.

Sam's first class that morning was Astronomy. It had been the most interesting class for him all year, but this time, he couldn't keep his mind on classwork. Trying to figure out how five people – minus him if he could manage it – would make a loaf of bread last until payday was enough work for his tired brain to handle. Besides, he was already starting to discover how much harder than usual it was to pay attention on an empty stomach. He felt as if he were lost in a fog, trying to follow a voice that seemed to come from all directions.

Thinking of the job that awaited him after the Glee Club met and parted that day, he sighed almost inaudibly. He had begun to resent the free time his classmates took for granted. He missed having time of his own, hours on end that he wouldn't have to spend working, doing homework or babysitting. It hadn't been very long ago when he would use that time more freely.

After a while, Sam heard the shuffling of books and the swish of pages being turned, and the sudden noise – however subtle – snapped him out of his thoughts. As quickly as he could, he reached for his Astronomy textbook and checked the whiteboard, hoping the teacher, Ms. Tyler, had written down what page he had to turn to. She hadn't. _Perfect,_ he thought.

He looked around nervously, trying to see what page his nearby classmates were on in their books. A girl sitting to his right glared at him. Sam slid down a little in his chair when he realized the teacher was also watching him, and a few other students had turned to see what she was looking at, too.

"So, Sam, I take it you've finally decided to take part in the lesson?" Ms. Tyler prompted impatiently.

Sam stared down at his desk and nodded. "Sorry," he mumbled. He wasn't in the mood to argue right then. He just wanted to be invisible.

At the very next moment, his wish proved too much to ask when half the classroom snickered. Sam looked around the room at them, frowning. The other half had joined the girl next to him in scowling at him as though he had offended them somehow.

He knew what they were upset about, but they were the ones in the wrong. Anger at all of them swelled in his chest, but he did nothing to try to vent it. _Not yet,_ he told himself. _Not today. The truth can wait…_

Sam's second, third and fourth classes that day weren't much easier. Although Sam made an extra effort to pay attention, new questions bombarded his mind, nagging at him and making it impossible to focus on anything else while he remained at his desk.

What would he do if his boss refused to give him even a fraction of his paycheck today? He had never asked to be paid early before, and it was only Thursday. On the other hand, if he did get the check early, and he spent it on food as planned, there was no way he would have enough money left to pay next week's rent on time. He had a very serious decision to make, and he would have to make it before leaving work that night.

What if he couldn't manage to speak alone with his two remaining friends before one o'clock, when the cafeteria would close for the day? What if they didn't have extra lunch money to lend him? What if someone overheard him asking for money? He couldn't stop a shudder at the thought.

But pride, it seemed, was a luxury he could no longer afford. Yes, it would be embarrassing, and his friends might not have extra money on hand, but he had to try. So, when the bell rang for lunch, he was one of the first to leave the Algebra classroom en route to the cafeteria.

When he got there, he sat down by the entrance, looking around for Quinn. He needed to speak with her, not only to ask for her help with lunch, but also – and most importantly – to apologize for the trouble he was inadvertently causing her. He didn't know who was coming up with these rumors, or why, but he did know that her reputation had been cruelly damaged as a result.

Regardless of who was at fault, she had kept the whole thing a secret for about a month now, despite the vicious attacks from the Muckraker, who had accused her of being unfaithful to Finn. All the while, she had remained a loyal friend to Sam, and neither of them had even suggested to the other that they were anything more than friends.

Yes, he still loved her, and he loved the thought that she might still have feelings for him, too, but even she didn't know that. So what right did the Muckraker have to pretend they knew what was going on inside his head?

Finally, Quinn strolled into the lunch room wearing a show-stopping smile Sam could easily see through. She looked as though she were busy trying to convince everyone to vote for her at the upcoming Prom Queen election, but he knew that if that prom votes weren't so important to her, she wouldn't be smiling at all. It was at least partially his fault. He had to say something…

"Quinn…" he called. He stood up and took a few steps toward her.

She stopped smiling when she saw him, but she looked concerned more than anything else. "Hi, Sam," she greeted him. Together, they walked over to an empty table and sat down.

He sighed. "I'm so sorry about all this, Quinn…" She shook her head, ready to protest, but he continued. "No, I am. I'm the one who asked you to keep the whole thing a secret, and look what it's done."

"Sam, this isn't your fault. None of it is. It's that stupid gossip paper. Don't let it get to you."

Sam lowered his gaze, but felt a little better. At least she didn't blame him… but he still did. "I can't thank you enough for what you've been doing."

Quinn sighed a quiet laugh. "Thank me for what?" she asked. "All I did was babysit a couple of times. I don't need any thanks for that."

Sam's eyes met hers again, and he shook his head. "That's not the half of it. You obviously haven't told anyone, even though it would've saved you all this trouble, and that means the world to me. You're an amazing person, Quinn."

Quinn looked down at the table, blushing. To Sam, she was the portrait of beauty, and he wanted those stunning, green eyes focused on him again. When she finally did look back up at him, however, her smile was gone, and her eyes had become sad. "I can't stand how everyone's treating you…" she said, her voice matching her expression.

_They'd treat me worse if they knew the truth,_ he thought. Aloud, all he said was, "I'm fine. Don't worry." Meanwhile, his stomach was urging him to ask her about the lunch money already, but his heart refused to cut corners. He knew Finn could find them there at any moment, and _every_ moment they had together was precious.

"There's something else," Quinn half-asked, watching Sam through worried eyes. "I can tell. What's wrong?"

Sam looked down, wondering how he would go about this. How would he explain? "Well, it's just…" After a moment more, he sighed. There was no easy way to borrow money from a girl who, not long ago, he had tried so hard to impress.

"Sam," Quinn tried, "you should know by now, you don't have to hide anything from me."

"It's not th— Quinn, I trust you. It's just…" He bit his lip, wondering whether or not it would have been easier to ask Kurt. It occurred to him then that unless he told one of them what was up before the next class began, he wouldn't have another chance until the next day at noon, at which point he would face the same dilemma. "You remember how I sold my guitar the other day?" he asked, trying not to look as miserable as he felt at the memory. He looked up to see Quinn nod slowly, encouraging him to go on. He took a deep breath. "Well, I gave the money to Mom and Dad to spend on food and stuff, but it wasn't enough." His voice faltered a little, but there were no tears in his eyes. He prayed no one else had heard him, but that Quinn would understand.

She watched him sadly for a moment, but then pulled something out of her pocket. She handed him three dollars under the table just as Finn walked in, Rachel by his side. Sam saw them before Quinn did, and quickly put the money in his pocket. His heated glare was met by two of the same. Quinn turned around and rolled her eyes at their timing.

Fortunately, they passed by without a word, but more than enough had been said in those few seconds of eye contact. As they walked away, Sam sighed in frustration. "Hypocrites…" he muttered under his breath. As much as he wanted to be with Quinn, he wanted her happy even more. She was Finn's girl now, although Finn wasn't honoring that. Sam knew what being cheated on was like; he didn't want Quinn feeling that way.

He turned his eyes back to her, about to thank her for the loan, when she shook her head, still glaring after her boyfriend. "You can just tell he'll be saving her a dance at the prom…" she sighed, fidgeting with her strawberry blond hair.

The mention of Junior Prom reminded him how badly he wanted to attend, if he could just afford it. The tux alone would cost at least a hundred dollars to rent for the night, and that was more than he had to spare, especially now that a week's worth of groceries was out of his reach. On top of that, there was the corsage, and with everything else involved, it just wasn't possible. Besides, who would he go with? Quinn was already going with Finn – assuming the rumors hadn't gotten in the way – and Santana had just left him for Karofsky. Yes, Rachel had asked him before all these rumors had started spreading, but by now, he wanted nothing more to do with her than she with him.

"Sam?" Quinn said softly when she saw the look on his face. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah…" Sam nodded, but didn't even pretend to cheer up. "I just really wanted to go."

"We'll figure something out," Quinn assured him, smiling kindly. "Meanwhile, we should probably get in the lunch line before it gets too long."

Sam nodded, smiling at the welcome reminder. He didn't need any convincing. They got up and walked over to the kitchen, where they parted. While Quinn headed for the salad bar, Sam waited in the main line to see what was on the menu that day. Overall, the selection looked pretty typical: pizza, grilled cheese, burgers, and so on. When he got the chance, he took a cheeseburger and went to the register, the three dollars ready in his hand.

He paid and sat down at the nearest empty table, pointedly ignoring the stares and whispers from several nearby gossipers. As he ate, Quinn came into view and smiled sadly at him. Sam smiled back, but she had already looked away. Finn was behind her, whispering to her, and she stared back at him, frustration written so plainly across her face that it was a wonder Finn was still talking. "I'll sit with you when you stop talking about this Muckraker business," he heard her say just as the lunch lady gave her her change. "Until then, I'd rather sit alone than with you and… _her_."

Sam hoped against hope that she would come and sit with him instead, but she didn't. She sat at the next table over, glaring down at her salad. He wished he had the freedom to move to her table and comfort her, but he knew that it would only make things harder for her in the long run. So he stayed put, hoping she understood why he had to. For now, it was for the best.

He finished his lunch slowly, trying to keep his mind in the present. His thoughts kept going to her; how she had bought back his trust with three dollars and a few hours of her time, how much he missed being close to her, how unfair it was that her reward for being a loyal friend was to be called disloyal and dishonest by her own so-called friends. He bit his lip, trying to keep the anger off of his face. He wanted to punch Finn; he was worst out of all of them!

_He doesn't deserve her,_ Sam thought bitterly. _He's obviously the one who's being dishonest…_ He got up, and as he passed Quinn on the way out, he whispered without slowing his pace, "Thanks." As much as he ached to, he forbade himself to look back to see if she had heard him, and he kept walking until he saw Finn, once again with Rachel. "Hypocrites," he mumbled again, making sure this time to come close enough to their table so that they heard him.

Finn scowled at him before he was out of sight, but Rachel touched his shoulder to calm him. "Don't listen to him," she urged.

"That shouldn't be too hard for either of you," Sam growled, and before they could respond, he turned his back and walked out the door.

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><p><strong>AN:** Thanks for reading! I hope you like the story so far. There are more chapters to come, so stay tuned!


	2. Go Your Own Way

Disclaimer: This chapter contains material adapted from a scene within a Glee episode (2.19 Rumours). I have the greatest respect for the writers and producers of Glee, and I assure you all, no copyright infringement is intended. :)

Author's Note: Thank you for reading past the boring-yet-necessary part, and please enjoy the actual chapter! (PS: I hope you don't cringe at my attempt at songwriting in this chapter... Poetry used to be my forte, but as is a major theme in this story so far, times change. So, sorry about that... I did my best, honest!)

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><p><strong>Go Your Own Way<strong>

The rest of the school day was better, at least, and it was easier for Sam to keep his mind on schoolwork. He still had a Glee Club meeting ahead of him, though, and he wasn't looking forward to the next round of interrogation, but as much as he dreaded the inevitable, he knew music would get his mind off his troubles, if only for a moment.

When the meeting started, Rachel announced to the club that she was ready to perform her song. While she serenaded the rest of the Glee Club with her rendition of Go Your Own Way, Sam felt his spirits lifting, as much as he knew he shouldn't let them. Even as he could feel the tension radiating from behind him, where Quinn sat, he couldn't keep still with that music in the air. The lyrics meant nothing to him, but secretly, he wished he could join the band with his guitar.

So he closed his eyes and played a solo of his own on air guitar. For the first time since the move out, he was having fun. It felt great!

But as with all songs, this, too, had to end, and all too soon for Sam. When the last notes were played and sung, the troubles Sam had briefly been able to forget came rushing back to him in the form of _more_ accusations.

Amid the applause from the rest of the club, Quinn asked resentfully, "Don't you think it's maybe a little inappropriate that you chose to sing a love song to _my_ guy?" Of course, she meant Finn.

"You're such a hypocrite!" Rachel shot back, sounding as though she had been waiting for the chance to say this for days. "You little miss perfect prom queen! You're a cheater who cheats in cheap motels with Sam!"

The phrase "cheap motels" cut Sam deeply. Still, he stared straight ahead and said nothing. He knew, however, that it was the accusation itself that had most hurt Quinn, though she maintained her composure like the inspiring young woman he knew her to be.

"Nothing is going on between Sam and I!" she sighed, exasperated.

"Enough, guys," Mr. Schue said, but his attempt to keep the peace was ignored.

"You know, I blame Sam for all this…" Santana chimed in, and for a fleeting instant, Sam wanted to scream at her to leave him alone, but whatever he opted to say would only fuel the incoming hatred from most of the Glee Club, and the school at large. It seemed everything he did was fueling the rumors, giving them more ammunition and stronger venom. "Rachel, too – I blame her."

"What did _I_ do?" shouted Rachel.

"I'm sure you did something."

"See, I'm with Santana," Lauren said. "I mean, why doesn't Sam have anything to say about all this?"

Puck was next. "Guilt," he suggested. "Seriously, dude, what you're doing is _not_ cool. They both have boyfriends!"

Sam couldn't take any more harassment. He had taken this and more all week, and it was piling up inside him. Finally, enough was enough. "Shut up!" he blurted out. "Look, I'm not messing around with Quinn or Kurt, or any one of those guys. They're just helping me!"

Of course, Mercedes had to have her two cents added to the mix. "Oh, is that what we're calling it now?" she scoffed.

But Mr. Schue stopped her. "Wait, hold on!" Then he looked Sam in the eye and asked him, "How were they helping you out?"

Sam took a deep breath in and held it for a few seconds. This was it, he knew. After more than four months of secrecy, he had no choice now but to tell them all what he'd been through. With a heavy sigh, he started by giving them exactly the information they'd asked for. "Kurt was bringing me some clothes, and Quinn was helping me babysit my little brother and sister."

As could be expected, Finn remained skeptical. "Then why were you in that motel?" he asked.

Sam was beyond fed up with all the questions. He glared at Finn, hating him for forcing him to this point. "Because that's where I live now!" he snapped. "My dad lost his job a few months ago, then we lost our house, so now we live in that motel, _in one room_!" Finn's eyes went wide as Sam explained the whole damn thing to him, but Sam didn't care anymore. He just wanted to be left alone! "Are you all happy?" he yelled, standing up to glower at all of them. No one said a word. "The truth's finally out…"

He couldn't stand the way they were looking at him, and as he stormed out of the choir room, he thought only of how much he hated those people, the ones that had been stupid enough to believe the rumors, and that he never wanted them to look him in the eye again.

As for Quinn and Kurt, they were the only real friends he had left. He half expected them, or at least Quinn, to run out after him, but neither of them did, so he kept walking through the otherwise empty halls until he reached the auditorium, where he hoped he could enjoy a few minutes to himself.

He walked in through the backstage door, but slowed to a stop a few feet inside, a cautious smile suddenly spreading across his face. There, not far ahead of him, a guitar sat perched in its stand. Sam looked around him, but there was no one else nearby, so he picked it up, wondering whose it was, and whether they would mind if he borrowed it, just for a minute or two.

For whatever strange reason, holding this guitar brought home how truly alone he had felt ever since the first rumor had been fabricated. Quinn and Kurt had been very helpful and supportive toward him, but they had been publicly punished for it. And Quinn couldn't even talk to him without being reprimanded by her undeserving boyfriend. Sam had once been her boyfriend… but Finn had destroyed that, too.

Bringing the guitar with him, Sam stepped out from behind the curtains onto the stage. He sat down at its edge, then rested the guitar on his lap and played a few healing chords.

As he continued to play, the beginnings of a song formed in his mind, and he decided to go with the idea. It felt as if he were trying to set his heart free, even as the world around him strove to trap him again and again.

With his eyes resting on the guitar, his thoughts traveled back to Quinn, as they often did nowadays. His heart broke for her, ached for her…

_Unfair  
>How the world won't let me near you<br>It's unfair  
>That I'm left with just your shadow to cling to<br>So unfair  
>They all turn a blind eye to the truth<br>Just unfair  
>What do they expect me to do?<em>

He sang the words as they came to him, not caring how they sounded – he wasn't singing them for an audience – thinking only of how much he longed to sing them to _her_. He needed her to understand that he wasn't trying to keep his distance because he was taking her generosity for granted, but because he didn't want to get her into more trouble. Yet now, he couldn't even tell her that much.

_Why can't I even be the friend you need?  
>Why can't I thank you for being one to me?<br>Why can't I look your way without them watching?  
>Why can't I return a favor without them talking?<em>

_Won't say what I'm feeling till the pressure's gone  
>But I know you know what my mind's been on<br>I want you back; there's just no way  
>But I can love you from far away<em>

_Unfair  
>How the world won't let me near you<br>It's unfair  
>That I'm left with just your shadow to cling to<br>So unfair  
>They all turn a blind eye to the truth<br>Just unfair  
>What do they expect me to do?<em>

_And while the world forces us apart  
>I hope you'll remember you have my heart<em>

He held the strings still and closed his eyes. The music hurt worse than the forced silence. He couldn't pretend like this anymore. Everyone was seeing through it. It killed him inside, seeing Finn treat Quinn the way he had been, as if she were trying to spite him by spending time with another guy, and then spending twice as much time with Rachel.

_And while the world forces us apart  
>I just hope you'll remember you have my heart<br>Forever_

If Finn really did care for Quinn, he would trust her no matter what had happened in the years before. At least Sam knew how to forgive a girl. The truth was, even while Santana was spilling the news to him that Finn had kissed Quinn, and even when he had agreed to date Santana – which he would soon come to regret – he hadn't been angry at Quinn. He had been heartbroken then, and ever since, but he had never wanted to hurt or humiliate her, which was exactly what Finn was doing now. Even then, he would have given anything to have her back. As long as she stayed with Finn, it didn't matter how badly Sam needed her; there was literally nothing he could do about it.

His life had never been so far out of his control before. As he sat there, clutching the borrowed guitar, he thought of the one thing he missed no less than he missed Quinn: a life he had a secure handle on. In fact, as much as he hated admitting it, he probably missed that a little more. He had lived in a house, just like everyone else he knew, and he'd had his own room, his own guitar, and his own girlfriend whom he knew was proud to be with him. Not to mention, he'd had the prom to look forward to.

Now, all of that was lost to him, carried away with the changing winds. He sighed, wondering whether he would forever be looking back to catch a glimpse of happiness, finding solace only in memories. All he had to look forward to now was Nationals.

Then again, would he even be able to go? The thought of exploring the sights of New York City with the rest of the Glee Club thrilled him, but there were more urgent matters to consider. If he went to New York for the week of the championships, what would his family do while he was away? He was the only one earning any money in the household, and they had already sold everything they could. He couldn't leave them behind. Times were harder than they'd ever been; he had to be responsible.

But to deny him this opportunity was to deny him hope. He needed the chance to escape, even for just one short week, from reality. He hated being homeless. And confessing it all to the Glee Club, like he had no more than fifteen minutes ago, felt like what was left of his self-respect was being ripped to shreds right before his eyes.

He took in a sharp breath to suppress a wave of anger, but it only made him feel worse. It had been building up inside him for two and a half months, ever since the bank had come to snatch his home away. Now it was too great to swallow, and he had to get it out of him.

He stood abruptly to go place the guitar back in its stand. With one last, lingering glance behind him, he left the way he had entered and headed through the front doors of the school. He was going _home_.

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><p>Sam stood on the sidewalk outside the two-story house that had once belonged to his family, staring mournfully at the two unfamiliar cars in the driveway. He had imagined that the property would remain vacant for several months after he'd left it, leaving it available for him and his family to move back into when things finally got better. The evidence, however, more than suggested that a new family had already settled in here. There would be no going back now.<p>

As the realization set in, he looked through the fence at the house itself, and his heart sank further. The exterior had been repainted from its former upbeat shade of sky blue to an unattractive yellowish-brown, a change Sam could only describe as depressing.

Not knowing why, he tried the gate. It was locked. His family had never once locked the gate, and had even left it open on occasion. It was as if the new homeowners didn't want visitors, making them seem very unfriendly. Sam turned back to the driveway, his narrowed eyes on the two gleaming cars that slept there. Slowly, he walked up to one of them and studied it for a moment. The bold red metal shimmered in the bright sunlight, and hardly a scratch was visible from where he stood.

His whole body shook with rage at the contrast as he made a mental list of all his family had lost in just four months' time – all _he_ had lost. His dad had lost the job he'd brought the family to Ohio to accept, leaving them without any savings, as theirs had already been spent on their new house. Then, they had lost that house, and with it, the luxuries of privacy and self-respect. Sam's good reputation had been lost due to all the rumors spreading around the school every minute of the day. He had lost all but two of his friends to the mindless crowd following the Muckraker. He had lost himself the chance to perform at Nationals with a glee club he no longer seemed a part of anyway. And now, he had lost all hope of his life returning to the way it had been before all of this had happened. Not to mention the Valentine's Day disaster that had lost him his beloved girlfriend.

At last, unable to look for another minute at the home he missed so badly, he turned and walked away. He still had to go to the elementary school and walk Stevie and Stacy home. Then, as usual, he would babysit for an hour and a half until his mom and dad came home, which also gave him some time to work on his homework before he left for work at six.

Work would be harder than ever that night; he was sure of that. All these new worries plaguing his mind would not help him keep a smile on his face for the customers, and he doubted his boss would just give him a slice of pizza or something without taking the price for it out of Sam's paycheck. He needed every cent of that money. His family needed it.

He arrived at the elementary school a few minutes later than usual due to his brief detour, but was glad to see them sitting outside together with their respective teachers, who were engaged in quiet conversation while watching the two youngsters. Stevie must have heard him coming, because he jumped up and spun around to face him, smiling brightly. Stacy looked around at her eldest brother and smiled, too. Sam grinned encouragingly back at them, his pace a little faster at the reminder. As depressed as he got sometimes, he couldn't let himself forget that no matter what happened, he had his family.

He waved to the two teachers, the friendly grin still on his face, and they waved back. Of course, they knew him well, because he had been the one to take his younger siblings home since his dad had lost his job. It had been no trouble; it was only a small detour for Sam on his own way back to the motel, and most days, he enjoyed the distraction his brother and sister provided, asking questions and telling him what they'd learned at school on the way home.

"Sam?" Stevie called thoughtfully a short while later.

"Yep?" Sam answered, looking down at his brother as they walked.

"Nicky says where we live can't ever be a home."

What remained of Sam's smile faded at the mention of the second-grade class bully. He sighed; he knew where this was going, and he didn't like it one bit. "Why would he say that?" Sam replied in a tone no less friendly than the one that he always used with his siblings. "We live there, don't we?"

"Yeah, but…" Stevie protested, but he stopped himself midsentence, as if he were ashamed to go further into the subject.

Sam stopped walking and turned to Stevie. "What?" he asked, worried now.

Stevie looked straight at him for a few seconds, then let his gaze fall to the paved sidewalk on which they stood. Finally, he looked back up at Sam and asked sadly, "Are we homeless?"

At first, Sam gave no answer. He _had_ no answer. He knew they were – they had been since early March – but to have to tell his little brother and sister that… He couldn't do it.

But he couldn't lie to them, either. "Sammy?" Stacy asked, looking just as melancholy, and she poked him lightly in the arm to get his attention. "Are we?"

Sam swallowed, feeling awful, but nodded slowly. He had prayed all this time that he would never have to tell them. It seemed, however, that that prayer had gone unheard.

Stevie bit his lip. "Is that why Quinn keeps coming over?" he asked. "Because she feels bad for us?"

Sam smiled. He knew better. "No," he said matter-of-factly. "She comes over cause she likes hanging out with you and Stacy." _And me_, he hoped to himself.

Stevie cheered up somewhat at the news, and the three resumed their walk to the motel. The topic of discussion changed to a more comfortable one: namely, school. Stacy sang a little song she had learned about the names of the months, proudly calling February 'Febby-ary.' Stevie boasted about an A+ he got on Wednesday's spelling test, and noted that he had another test coming up, this time in math.

They got home soon enough, and went in. Sam opened the blinds, and then he and Stevie sat down to work on their homework while Stacy took out a piece of paper and a few half-used crayons from her backpack and sat down on the floor to draw.

After an hour or so of quiet concentration, Sam heard someone knock at the door. Hoping it was Quinn, he quickly got up to answer.

It wasn't.

* * *

><p><span>AN: A huge thank you to my beta reader, **BananaBat18**! You rock! :D


	3. The Guitar

_**Brief Author's Note:** I am so, so sorry for making you guys wait so long for this pesky chapter! Pesky as it's been to write, I'm proud of it. I hope it's worth the wait. And now, let's move on to the actual chapter..._

* * *

><p><strong>The Guitar<strong>

Sam had only opened the door a few inches before he wished he hadn't opened it at all. Finn and Rachel stood there, side by side, waiting to be welcomed in as if they were his dearest friends.

He had to think fast. "Um… I'm trying to get my sister to sleep," he lied. He tried to close the door, but Finn stopped it with his foot.

"Dude, please!" Finn said. "Please, just let us in."

Sam would have loved to slam the door in their faces, but before he could, Stacy joined him by the door, smiling eagerly. "Hi!" she said. "I'm Stacy." Sam looked down at her, nervous. He hadn't counted on her making an appearance.

"Hi, Stacy," Rachel greeted her sweetly. "I'm Rachel. This is Finn."

"Hi," said Finn.

Sam forced a smile. "Well, sh-she's up now," he said, although he knew seeing Stacy in day clothes had proven to his visitors that he'd been lying. He opened the door to let them in. "Beats a cardboard box underneath an underpass, right?" he quipped somberly as they looked around the cramped room. "We keep the rest of our stuff in my dad's car." Most of that 'stuff,' of course, was a few boxes full of warm clothes for the winter, some family photos, and other belongings that no one else would have valued highly enough to buy from them.

"This is everything you own?" Rachel asked. She sounded horrified, but cautious about showing it.

"We sold everything else," explained Sam.

The two of them glanced at each other wordlessly. After a while, Stevie asked, "Can we watch TV?"

"Yeah, sure," Sam told him, picking his little brother up and tossing him playfully onto the bed closest to the television, making him laugh. "Keep it low, though. Mr. Jensen next door is on the night shift again." He turned on the old set to the only kids' channel they could get at that motel. Then, he remembered that he still had a granola bar left in his backpack which Quinn had brought him during school. Still wanting to look as normal as possible to his visitors, he offered it to his little brother. "You want a snack?" he asked, trying to forget that he'd been saving it for dinner.

"Alright," replied Stevie.

Sam turned to Stacy and tossed her onto the bed, too. "You, too; get over there…" he mumbled, grinning at them. Stacy giggled and crawled across the bed to sit with Stevie. His grin vanished, however, when he turned back to his classmates.

"I… I don't understand," said Finn. "What happened?"

Sam sighed and instinctively brushed his hair out of his eyes. "We moved up here from Tennessee, you know, cause my dad got a really good job offer," he explained quietly, "and… the economy went to hell, and it was 'last ones in, first ones out.' We spent our life savings on the move and down payment on the house…" Frustration welled up in his heart just thinking of how quickly things had disintegrated from there. "You know, when the bank takes your house, they literally take it," he told them, almost glad to finally have someone new to talk about all this with. "They come by one morning and kick you out of your own house. Just… lock you out."

"Why didn't you tell us what was going on?" Finn breathed, although he looked like he'd already heard enough for one day.

Sam shook his head almost imperceptibly. He knew what story would most likely frequent the front page of the Muckraker now that he'd told the truth to the entire Glee Club. "You've seen how information flies around that school, right?" Realization began to dawn on Finn's face, the same way it had when he'd found out about Sam living in that motel in the first place. "Do you think people would've just treated me the same if they found out? I'd be even more of a freak. Kurt only found out cause I got a job delivering pizzas at night, and happened to bring one to Dalton." Sam cringed a little at the memory of how he'd felt when Kurt saw him at the door. Kurt, of course, had invited him in, but he had only stayed a few minutes; there had been more orders to deliver, more work to do.

"Yeah," Finn said. "He told us." It was then that Sam noticed a stuffed, green duffel bag Finn had brought in, because Finn chose that moment to hold it out to him. "Look," he said, smiling a little as Sam took the gift, "I brought these for you. I know Kurt was trying to help you out, bringing some of his old clothes, but I don't think sequined riding pants are for you." Sam couldn't keep a small smile off of his face at the remark. "So… this is some of my old stuff."

"Thanks," Sam sighed, wondering if those clothes would be enough to change his mind in the long run about being angry at Finn. He put the bag aside for later just as another question was brought up.

"So, um, what about… Quinn?" Rachel mumbled, who seemed as though it hurt her to look him in the eye.

"We go to the same church," Sam told her. The thought of discussing Quinn with her rival was painful, but more than anything, he wanted to clear her name if he could. "I couldn't really hide it from her, and I kind of like having her around to do some girl stuff with Stacy." He glanced over at his sister, whom he realized had been watching him, along with Stevie. Looking back at Finn and Rachel, he continued. "Mom and Dad are out all day, pounding pavement, looking for work, but… nothing. I'm not even sure if I'm gonna be able to keep on the Glee Club…" he added sadly, shaking his head.

The idea of Sam leaving New Directions startled Finn visibly, and he immediately began to protest. "What? No, you can't do that…" he stammered.

Rachel joined in, her voice having gone up a few notes with emotion. "Yeah, we've come so far, and I know that it's a rough time right now, but you can't quit!" She was pleading now.

But Sam had other things on his mind. "You guys don't understand," he breathed, feeling more and more depressed as the discussion wore on.

Rachel nodded. "Yes, we do," she answered cryptically.

Sam watched her doubtfully for a moment, but she turned to send Finn a meaningful look. Obviously taking the mysterious cue, Finn opened the door and walked out, leaving the room for only a few seconds. When he did return, Sam's eyes went wide; Finn was holding a black guitar case. Sam could only stare. It couldn't be _his_…

Finn and Rachel shared a quick smile before he turned back to Sam, letting his smile grow wider. "Quinn told us you hocked your guitar."

Sam let out the breath he'd been holding and lay the case on the floor, kneeling down beside it to unfasten the silver locks. Slowly, he pulled the top open to reveal the exact same guitar that he had had to sell. He swallowed hard; a lump was forming in his throat. "Did you guys buy this back for me?" he whispered.

"The whole Glee Club did," Rachel replied kindly. Sam lowered his gaze as tears pressed against his eyes, stinging them. He tried to force them back, but it was a wasted effort. "Look, Sam," continued Rachel, tears of her own making her eyes shine in the lamplight, "we'll do whatever we can to help, anything to keep you in the Glee Club until you get back on your feet."

For at least a minute, although it felt to him like half an hour, Sam felt himself break down, right in front of them. After four long months, all of the pent-up emotion was rising to the surface. He had felt so alone all that time, being the target of his own friends' unearned suspicion, but now…

"First time I've cried…"

Just then, he heard Stacy climb down from the bed. He looked over his shoulder briefly while she scurried over to him and gave him a hug from behind, resting her head on his shoulder. "Don't cry, Sammy," she said softly. Instead of soothing him, however, the gesture only made him cry harder.

"We need you, Sam," Rachel told him. "Okay? And you need the music."

Sam looked up at her, knowing she was right – he needed music like he needed to breathe – and every drop of resentment evaporated from his eyes. They were his friends again. It felt truly amazing, even liberating, to know they, along with the rest of the Glee Club, were back on his side.

Gradually, he was able to stop his tears. He wiped them away with his sleeve and closed the guitar case, then stood to face his visitors. "You guys want to stay for a while?" he asked with a brief glance at the clock. He knew his homework should be his priority at this time of the day, since he would have no other chance to complete it; he was always too tired after work. Then again, truth be told, he wouldn't have minded the company, especially now that he was no longer angry.

Finn smiled and nodded. "Sure, if you want."

Sam looked hopefully at Rachel, hoping she would want to stay, too. There wasn't much to do there, he couldn't offer them anything like he would have a few months ago, and much of the would-be floor space in the room was being used up by the two queen-size beds (his bed had to be folded up and moved up against the wall during the day to make it easier to walk around the room). Still, he knew he would feel better about all this once his friends knew that there was no "old Sam" or "new Sam," and that he was still the same person, whether he lived in a two-story house or a tiny, cluttered motel room.

Rachel nodded wordlessly, putting a smile on Sam's face. Gratefully, Sam gestured to the small table he'd been using to do his homework, and once it had been neatly cleared off, the three of them sat down.

"I've got to tell you, though," he told them, making note of the time again, "Mom and Dad will be home soon, and then I have to get to work."

Finn nodded. "No problem," he said. "We'll only stay for a few minutes, then."

"So," Rachel began thoughtfully, "What's your boss like?"

Sam chuckled, thinking the question over. "Mr. Reynolds… He's a good guy," he said, "but he doesn't pay very good wages. Five bucks an hour for forty hours a week doesn't add up to much, even with whatever tips customers decide to give."

Finn seemed surprised at the mention of Sam's pay. "Five dollars an hour?" he echoed. "Isn't that, like, below minimum wage?" Rachel turned to glance at Finn, then looked back at Sam, a worried expression on her face.

Sam sighed and shook his head. "Calm down, Finn. Look, regular minimum wage is a lot more than the minimum wage for people who can earn tips, like me. Problem is, a lot of the time, most people just hand me their pocket change or something, which means I have to work longer hours to get the rent in on time." He sighed again, staring down at the table.

There was silence for a moment, but then Finn broke it. "Wow, I… I never thought about it like that. Next time I go to Breadstix, I'm leaving a really good tip…"

"That's generous," Sam laughed, cheered up by the comment.

Finn smiled a little, but then took on a confused expression again. "Wait a sec… Did you say you're working forty hours a week?"

Sam shrugged. "Five hours after school, seven and a half hours a day on weekends. To be honest, I was cool with whatever he could give me," he told them nonchalantly.

Just then, the sound of a key unlocking the door caught their attention, and a moment later, Sam's parents walked in, looking worn out from a long day.

"Sam, aren't you supposed to be working on your homework?" his mom prompted upon seeing him sitting with his friends, his homework sitting idly on his bed.

"Yeah, I started it," he said hopefully. "But this is sort of a special occasion…" His mom watched him incredulously.

"What's that?" his dad asked irritably. "An end to the recession?" For a moment, Sam didn't respond, but instead, stared at his father, disappointed.

"Andrew…" his mom scolded her husband.

"Bad day, Dad?" Sam asked dejectedly.

"If a bad day means no one's hiring in this entire town, then yes," Andrew answered, "it's been a bad day."

Finn and Rachel shared a nervous glance. "Should we go?" Finn asked Sam.

Sam sighed. "_I_ probably should, too," he said. "It's gonna be a long night…" Grudgingly, he got up to grab his school bag and his homework. He would work on it some more during his break.

Finn and Rachel stood, as well. "You want a ride?" offered Finn. "I could drive you there."

Sam turned around, surprised. Wearing a grateful half-smile, he nodded, and the three of them headed for the door.

"Night, Sammy!" Stacy called before her brother was gone.

"Night, Sam!" echoed Stevie.

"Night, you guys," replied Sam. Then he, Rachel and Finn got into the latter boy's car, and they drove off toward the pizza store.

* * *

><p>"Thanks, Finn," Sam said as he got out of the car, his backpack slung over his shoulder. "See you both tomorrow!"<p>

Finn smiled encouragingly, and Sam hurried into the store. He took a quick look at the clock in the front room, which read six seventeen. He grinned hopefully; for several intertwining reasons, he hadn't been able to get to work early in a long time. Maybe, just maybe, this was some sort of a sign that the rest of the night would at least go smoothly.

Then, remembering the problem he had wanted to talk to Mr. Reynolds about since that morning, he wondered if he should just explain his dilemma to his boss and hope for the best. That seemed like the smartest plan he had come up with so far.

The door to Mr. Reynolds' office was closed, so he knocked, hoping that luck would remain with him for as long as it took to come up with a solution to this dangerous situation. After a few seconds, he heard his boss talking and grimaced. _He's on the phone… Perfect._

Luckily, he only had to wait a minute or two before Mr. Reynolds opened the door to let him in. "You're early," the man greeted him, looking pleased.

"Yeah," Sam replied with a nervous grin. "Um… Can I ask you something? It's kind of important."

"Of course," answered Mr. Reynolds, and he gestured to a chair across from his own by his desk. He seemed worried at the anxiety written on Sam's face as they sat down.

Sam took a deep breath and began: "I know how lucky I am to have this job… It's just that… there's too much we – my family – can't afford anymore." He tensed up a little to keep from shuddering.

"Sam…" sighed Mr. Reynolds, a note of sadness in his voice, "I understand that times are tough; they are for everyone. But the fact is, there's only so much I can do to help you. Having a family-owned business isn't as easy as it might sound. Food prices are rising…"

_I know,_ thought Sam, his heart sinking at the man's reaction. _Believe me, I know._ He kept quiet, however, and waited for his boss to finish.

"…and at the same time, a lot of would-be customers aren't coming anymore, because the big corporations can afford to offer lower prices. Do you see what I mean?"

Sam stared down at his lap and nodded. After a brief silence, he looked up again and asked somberly, "So there's really nothing you can do?"

"Not right now, I'm sorry to say." He did look genuinely apologetic, but Sam knew _sorry_ wouldn't keep his family from going hungry.

Though disappointed, Sam bit his lip and nodded dutifully. He didn't want to push his luck too far, after all, desperate though he was. "Thanks anyway," was all he said as he stood to leave the office. He wanted to say more; he hoped he would get the chance later in the evening to explain exactly what it was that he could no longer afford. He had only skimmed the very tip of the iceberg, and it stung him that he hadn't gotten a chance to tell his boss the whole story before a decision had been made. _ That sounds familiar,_ he thought to himself.

Closing the door behind him, it didn't take that much brainstorming to realize that there was only one valid option left. He would have to start working some serious overtime to make sure he'd earn enough money to buy a week's worth of food for five people – or four, if it really came to that.

It had only been a few months ago when he would look forward to the weekend, rather than dread it. Needless to say, he didn't expect any opportunity to relax and enjoy a two-day "vacation" from school. From now on, it would be as though weekends no longer existed. For that matter, he might as well have just forgotten about Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and so on; now, every day was Workday. No vacations. No days off. No end in sight.

_Being poor sucks._

Sam rolled his eyes and scoffed at the understatement as it settled in his mind, and he went into the kitchen to see if there were any delivery orders waiting to go out. Two pizzas and a diet Sprite were on the counter by the back door, labeled with the handwritten name and address of the customer he would be bringing them to. He put the pizzas in a heat-proof cover to keep them warm and took them and the soda out to the company car to deliver them.

Once he was on the road, he turned on the radio, hoping some upbeat music would make him feel better.

As if on cue, _Don't Stop_ began to play. At first, he didn't think much of it but to like the sound. About halfway through the song, however, it hit him: this was one of the songs from that Rumours album! It would fit the theme for that week's glee club assignment perfectly. He smiled to himself; now he had a song, and that, he hoped, would be the beginning of the end of the troubles that had plagued his mind all day.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Sam carried his guitar to school, wearing a huge smile on his face, and for the first time in at least a week, feeling that even though his life would probably never be perfect, if he made the best of it, perhaps it would come close enough, soon enough.<p>

As soon as the bell rang for lunch, Sam went looking for Quinn, eager to tell her about his idea for the upcoming glee club meeting later that afternoon. When she finally came in, he had to remind himself not to wrap her in his arms; half the school was watching. The last thing he wanted was to prove to them that he really did still have feelings for her, as the Muckraker had so coldly predicted.

Still, he was happy. He had another favor to ask of her, but he was sure she would not decline once he had had a chance to ask. At least, he hoped she wouldn't…

"Quinn!" he called, unable to hide the excitement from his voice as he did.

Quinn looked around at him and offered him a bright smile. "Hey," she greeted him quietly.

Sam decided it would be best to get right to the point. Still smiling, he began: "I found a Fleetwood Mac song to do in Glee Club today… but I need a singing partner. Could you…?"

"Sure!" she replied. "Which song did you pick?"

Sam's grin widened briefly. "Don't Stop." Then his smile faded. "I think Stevie and Stacy need to hear it. They heard me talking yesterday about… about what's been happening lately… I think it got them down a little. I could walk them here after school. Do you think it would work?"

Quinn nodded hopefully. "Sam, that's a great idea!" she exclaimed.

Sam's smile returned. "I hope Mr. Schue will be okay with them joining us."

"I'm sure he will." With that said, Quinn glanced down at her bag and, moments later, retrieved a few dollars to give him for lunch.

"You thought ahead," Sam laughed sheepishly, looking eagerly at the lunch money. His stomach growled painfully in anticipation of the long-awaited meal.

"Don't I always?" she joked as she handed it to him, but her angelic smile quickly faded and her gaze lowered to the table, as though she had just remembered something from her past that had proved her quip wrong.

Without giving himself time to think twice, Sam put his hand tenderly on hers and looked into her eyes, his own radiating a warmth that he hoped would help her to forgive herself, just as he had forgiven her. "It's okay, you know," he told her earnestly. "I'm not angry at you. I never was."

"That's because you're a good person, Sam," she answered, her voice breaking, "not because _I_ am."

Sam shook his head firmly. "You _are_ a good person, Quinn." With a small smirk, he added, "Just ask Stevie and Stacy." That make Quinn smile the tiniest bit. "Really, all you've done for me over the past couple of months, me _and_ them… I don't think you realize how much that's helped… how much _you've_ helped."

Quinn turned around suddenly to glance at the clock on the wall. It read twelve twenty-two. "We should get in there," she said, gesturing towards the kitchen, "or we won't have time to eat." She stood up, wiping a tear from her eye, and Sam followed her in.

Pizza was on the menu that day, it being Friday and all, so that was what he took. Thankfully, the three dollars Quinn had brought him were enough to buy two slices. He doubted a single slice would last him the rest of the school day, let alone through the night at work.

Despite his discovery of the Fleetwood Mac song early in the evening, that shift had been a rough one. Yes, he'd had lunch only a few hours earlier, but by around 8:45 that night, it became all too clear that after skipping two meals, a school cafeteria cheeseburger hadn't been enough to last him very long at all.

It was then that Sam realized, as he approached the cash register to pay for his lunch, that this time wouldn't be like yesterday. The weekend was coming up, and unless someone came to visit, this weekend would be the longest and hardest two days he'd ever been through. However, the thought that pushed him forward was more powerful than the fear that threatened to hold him back: if he didn't do what he could to keep his family fed, no one else would have the chance to do so. It was his job, his responsibility to keep food on the table and a roof over their heads.

With this in mind and all of his fears pushed aside, he quickly gave his three dollars to the lunch lady, got fifty cents in change and sat down at an empty table to eat. Just as quickly, he finished his lunch and began looking around for Quinn.

She was sitting with Finn, who had sat down with Rachel. Sam grimaced at the expression Quinn wore; Finchel was inseparable, even after Finn's false theory about Quinn cheating a third time had been debunked. What was their excuse now?

Setting his questions aside for a better time, Sam sat down cautiously at their table. The three glee clubbers looked over at him as he sat down, and smiled at their friend.

"Hey, Sam," Finn greeted him. His smile was the first to fade, but the others' quickly followed suit. "You okay, dude? You look kinda tired."

Sam startled a little at the remark, but answered almost immediately. "I'm okay," he assured them. "I've just been working late, is all." He looked around at the surrounding tables to ensure none of his other peers had heard him. Luckily, no one else seemed affected by the comment. Finn's gaze lowered a little, and Sam, feeling guilty, wondered if he should even have divulged that much. "Um, so what were you guys talking about before?" he asked, welcoming a change of subject.

"Oh, the prom," answered Rachel sadly. "But I'm not so sure I want to go by myself… How depressing."

Finn turned to her. "You don't need a date to have fun, Rachel," he told her, his eyes just as melancholy.

"Exactly," said Quinn, forcefully blocking out the chemistry between her boyfriend and his ex. "You can't just not show up at your own junior prom." She eyed Sam as if to say, _Maybe you should ask her._

Sam sighed and shook his head. "I'm not going, either. I can't."

"Sam…" Quinn began, but Sam stopped her before she could go any further.

"You know why, Quinn. I can't afford it. The limo, the tux, all of it; it's just impossible."

Quinn sighed, but she kept watching him urgently. "I can't believe it's that simple. There has to—"

"It's not. Nothing's been simple since last Christmas."

"Wait, Christmas?" Finn asked. "This whole thing started _last year_?"

Sam chuckled a little at his friend's surprise. He knew what Finn was really wondering, so he decided to answer that instead. "You never asked. Anyway, I'm just saying why I'm not going to the prom. If I could, something like not having a date wouldn't stop me." He smiled sadly at Rachel, siding with her other friends on the matter. She would have fun, and he knew it. Going alone would be better than not going at all.

Rachel seemed to think it over for a moment. "You're a good friend, Sam," she sighed at last.

Sam grinned. "Don't forget these two," he chuckled, nodding towards Quinn and Finn.

Rachel smiled sheepishly back at the three of them. "You're all great," she said.

"So?" Finn teased, wearing his characteristic half-smile. "Are you gonna go or not?"

"I guess I'm going after all."

All four of them smiled, satisfied.

* * *

><p>Sam sprinted towards the elementary school once his last class was over to pick up Stevie and Stacy and bring them back with him to McKinley. When he got there, lightheaded from the run, he stopped for a few seconds by the door to catch his breath.<p>

"Sam, oh!" exclaimed a woman's voice from behind him. Stevie's teacher, Ms. Patrice, appeared at the door, looking startled at the sight of Sam there over an hour earlier than usual. "You're very early today," she observed aloud.

"Hi, Sam!" Stevie greeted him, waving at him from the hallway just inside the entrance. Then, looking mildly disappointed, he asked, "Is it time to leave already? I wanted to go in the library first."

Sam shook his head, smiling at his bookworm of a brother. "We have to hurry," he said. "Where's Stacy? I have a surprise for both of you."

Stevie immediately cheered up at the mention of a surprise waiting for him. "Really? What is it?"

"I can't tell you yet," Sam laughed, "or it won't be a surprise anymore."

Stevie again looked disappointed, but only briefly. Then a smirk grew on his face. "If you tell me, I'll still _act_ surprised…" he tried innocently.

At first, Sam just raised an eyebrow at him, but the next moment, he grinned and ruffled the little boy's hair playfully. "You sure know your Disney stuff," he said, mildly impressed. _He's getting pretty good at it, too,_ Sam thought to himself. _Just like his big bro…_

Stevie stopped walking and pouted. "Please, Sammy?" he pleaded again.

Sam gestured for Stevie to keep up. "C'mon, Stevie. The sooner we find Stacy, the sooner you get to find out for yourself."

"I think she's drawing," Stevie said thoughtfully.

"So she's in the art room, then… Okay." Together, they went upstairs to the art room to look for their sister.

"Stacy! Come on, Sam says he's got a surprise for us!" Stevie called as they neared the art room, in which Stacy was visible from halfway down the hallway.

"Hi, Sammy!" Stacy said, waving at them.

"_Stacy_!" whined her very impatient brother.

"I'm coming, Stevie. Don't yell…" Leaving her crayons on the table, Stacy grabbed her unfinished drawing and her backpack and scurried out of the room to join her brothers and find out what this _surprise_ was.

"Okay," Stevie began, "can you tell us _now_?"

Sam chuckled. "Okay," he agreed, "but we've gotta get going. C'mon." He headed for the exit, his siblings hurrying to keep up.

"Where are we going?" Stevie asked. "Home?"

"Not yet." Sam said, still grinning. "The surprise is at my school. We can go home afterwards."

"At the _high school_?" Stacy exclaimed, her eyes glimmering with delight. "Wow, I've never been to high school before!"

"You'll like it," Sam told her.

When they arrived at McKinley a few minutes later, Sam led the way to the choir room, and they went in. Everyone else was already sitting on the risers.

"Hey, everybody," Sam greeted his friends. Stevie waved enthusiastically, and a couple glee club members waved back. "I kinda wanted to get these guys outta the motel for a little while. I hope it's okay if I brought them."

"Of course, of course!" Mr. Schue said brightly. "Yeah, come on in."

"I was also hoping that maybe they could help out with my number today. I have the perfect song I want to sing to them, and don't worry, it's good for the assignment, Mr. Schue."

Mr. Schuster put a hand on Sam's shoulder in an encouraging gesture. "The more the merrier," he said.

* * *

><p>Once all of New Directions was gathered around the auditorium piano with Stevie and Stacy, the band started to play, and Sam took his cue.<p>

_If you wake up and don't wanna smile  
>If it takes just a little while<br>Open your eyes and look at the day  
>You'll see things in a different way<em>

_Don't stop thinking about tomorrow  
>Don't stop, it'll soon be here<br>It'll be better than before  
>Yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone<em>

_All I want is to see you smile  
>If it takes just a little while<br>I know you don't believe that it's true  
>I never meant any harm to you<em>

_Don't stop thinking about tomorrow  
>Don't stop, it'll soon be here<br>It'll be better than before  
>Yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone…<em>

While all of them sang, Kurt rushed up from behind all of a sudden and snatched Sam's guitar, grinning wider than anyone else. Before Sam could ask why, Puck and Mike lifted him up on their shoulders, with Finn standing behind them to spot him, and he couldn't have stopped smiling if he'd tried.

No words could have described the feelings that surged through him as he sat on the top of the world, Confidence, gratitude, hope, friendship – none of these even came close. One thing could be said of these emotions, however: he didn't want them to go away – ever.

After a few moments, Mike and Puck let him down, and Sam, still elated, gave Stacy a big hug and then picked up Stevie as the song ended.

Finally, even if only for a few minutes, everyone was happy.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<br>**A big, huge thank-you to my beta, BananaBat18, and everyone who helped me finish this chapter! Whew... I'm so thrilled it's finally complete. There are several more chapters in the works, though, so stay tuned! And don't forget: I love feedback in the form of reviews. Again, thanks so much for your patience during the seven-month wait for this chapter, everyone, and I'm so sorry for it, especially right after a cliffie. Hopefully, Chapter 4 will be far more cooperative. :)_

_Disclaimer: This chapter contains lyrics from a Fleetwood Mac song, "Don't Stop." It also has lines I took directly from the Glee episode 2.19, entitled "Rumours." No copyright infringement is intended in either case._


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